EPISODE 5

October 31st, 3 PM.

“Do you not know it?”

“N-no. I know it very well.”

“Then sing it.”

“With such a will, such a spirit, loyalty, heart and hand,

let us love, come grief, come gladness, this our beloved land.”

“Alright.”

“Phew.”

“Let’s move on to some economic knowledge. Explain the Nash equilibrium to me, please. Keep it short.”

His pronunciation of “Nash equilibrium” was fluent and buttery smooth. But the fact was, there was no way a Korean literature major could know the answer to that.

“What?”

“Do you not know it?”

“Well, no, actually...”

“Then what about game theory?”

“Uh...”

“Who won the Nobel Prize in 1993?”

“Cough.”

Lee Youngjun was seated languidly at a huge desk, chin cupped in his interlocked hands. He was much more attractive, and much nastier, than the rumors had made him out to be.

The person in front of him was the last of the applicants permitted a final interview; the odd mismatch of his personality and charm and the impossible questions made her break out in a cold sweat. Had all the interviewees who’d come before her answered these appalling questions?

“How do you make holy water?”

“Oh! I know that one! You boil the hell out of it!”

Interviewee #3, who’d blurted out her answer in excitement, felt her eyes well up in tears and shame. Her already flimsy morale collapsed.

She began to sob.

“We're done here.”

The woman trudged out of the small conference room. Youngjun massaged his aching temples and lowered his head onto the desk. He felt dizzy, and his entire body hurt like someone had given him a sound beating. He’d always lacked sleep because of his insomnia, but since a week ago, he'd been unable to catch a single hour of sleep.

“Who did win the Nobel Prize in 1993?”

It was Miso's voice coming from above him. He hadn’t noticed her coming in.

Youngjun propped himself up, looked at her, and retorted, “What kind of person memorizes that sort of thing?”

“Oh my, you’re completely right. Ohohoho!”

The ends of her mouth twitched as she smiled.

The three applicants had all stepped out with beet-red and muddled faces, asking questions like, “What is the capital of Antigua and Barbuda?” or “Who in the world does the ‘invisible hand’ belong to? It sure isn’t mine!” The final applicant had complained, “Do you know who won the Nobel Prize in Economics in 1993?”

She knew none of the answers to the questions, other than the fact that the invisible hand was a concept created by Adam Smith. She could tell, however, with what intentions these questions were asked.

Miso sighed.

After that deep sigh, she was about to say something when she sensed that something was wrong. She took a step closer to Youngjun and looked him closely in the face.

“Vice-Chairman, are you really alright?”

“What do you keep going on about? What are you asking?”

“You’ve been pale since morning. Are you ill?”

Miso’s face was full of concern. Youngjun gestured as if swatting away a bothersome mosquito and turned his face away.

“I'm just tired.”

“Really? It's because you're tired?”

“Yes.”

“That can't be it. It couldn’t be that you’re upset over me quitting the job, could it? And tiredness is just an excuse? Ohohoho.”

Youngjun, feeling caught, tried his best to maintain his outward composure.

“What do you mean, upset?”

“Come on, now. That's a bit hurtful. I mean, I was pretty sad myself.”

Youngjun got off the desk and leaned back in his chair.

He was silent for a while. He seemed to be deep in thought; Miso stopped bothering him and turned toward the door, intending to leave him to his ponderings.

As she reached for the doorknob, Youngjun called out to her in a serious voice.

“Secretary Kim.”

“Yes.”

Judging from his tone, it was something serious. She quietly went back to standing in front of the desk.

“I’m sure you already know this.”

“Know what?”

“I’m not a person who gives second chances. Ever.”

“Yes, Vice-Chairman.”

“But.”

A slight grimace formed indentations in Youngjun's forehead. This was a habit of his that surfaced whenever his pride was injured, or when he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do.

“For you, Miso, I’ll make a special exception and give you a second chance. It's your one and only second chance, so think it over thoroughly before making your decision.”

His proud attitude might have convinced an ignorant bystander that she had in fact been fired, not decided to quit on her own. If it had been anyone but Lee Youngjun, saying such words would have prompted derision.

“What do you mean?”

Youngjun looked up at Miso, who was still smiling. Youngjun continued calmly,

“I’ll promote you to director. If you have too much work, I’ll get you a dedicated backup secretary. Once you’re promoted, you’ll get to use a company car, and if you wish, I’ll use my own money to get you a big house.

“How much debt did you say you had left? I’ll pay that off for you as well. Tell me whatever you want, and I’ll have it done. However, you need to keep working for me.”

“Wow.”

Miso, with her smiling face, thought long and hard and added, “That is tremendous.”

“I guarantee you, you’re not getting this kind of treatment anywhere else.”

“Of course not.”

“And you won’t meet a more perfect boss, either.”

“Yes. I thought you’d say that.”

“I don’t know what it is you're trying to accomplish personally by quitting the job. It's about time you let it go, though, don't you think? The opportunity cost is too high.”

Youngjun had been smiling languidly, with Miso smiling right back at him. She opened the case of her tablet PC and took something out of it, plunking it on the desk.

It was a clean white envelope. On it were three words in a clean font:

Letter of Resignation.

Miso watched silently as the grimace disappeared from his face, and added, “I'm sorry.”

“Ah, it's alright. It’s alright. Don’t pay it any mind.”

“Still, I’m sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. Just don't come to me later and beg me to take you back, alright?”

Miso gave Youngjun a cute smile as he gave his most deliberate attempt at indifference.

“Thank you so much, Vice-Chairman.”

“Don't mention it.”

“Don't ask any more of those impossible questions and torture those poor applicants, alright?”

“Well, I’ll try.”

Miso turned to check tomorrow's schedule and missed the fierce quiver in Youngjun's tightly-sealed lips.

“This is tomorrow's schedule. You’ll be busy starting early in the morning, so don't drink too much tonight. Even if you do stay out late, don’t call me to drive you home again. I'm really going to keep my phone turned off tonight. Ho ho ho.”

Miso turned merrily toward the door. Youngjun called out to her again as she gripped the handle.

“Wait. One more thing.”

“What?”

“What did you mean by what you said?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you’d start living your own life now.”

“Yes.”

“Explain that properly, would you?”

The question sounded out of character, very grave and even a little bit frightening. She gave a glib reply.

“I've been so buried in my work that I guess I wanted to have some time to myself. And besides...”

“Besides?”

“I should start looking out for a date, you know. And get married, too. I’m already 29, after all.”

***

It was October 31st, 10:30 PM, in the Caribbean Lounge of the outdoor pool of Keukdong Hotel again.

Youngjun got up, tearing at his hair, heaved a sigh, and mumbled like a man distraught.

“Secretary Kim...”

Youngjun looked over his acquaintances, looking at him with anxious looks on their faces. He wasn't really seeing them, though. His thoughts were full of something else. His thoughts were an impossible jumble of confusion, and his chest felt like it could explode.

“Why is Secretary Kim...acting like that all of a sudden?”

Youngjun finally understood why he hadn’t been able to sleep for the past week.

She had spoken of time to herself, dating, and marriage to him as if to a complete stranger. And it seemed that when it came to Kim Miso's personal life, Lee Youngjun was not even in the picture. Not in the slightest.

“Why? I just don't understand.”

Youngjun gazed off into the distance. He raised his finger with a graceful gesture and pointed at Ji-ran, who was sitting on the ground.

“You.”

“Huh?”

“What do you think of me?”

“What? What a strange question to ask!”

“I said, what do you think of me?”

Ji-ran had no idea what it was that he wanted to hear. She stuttered in her confusion and spoke slowly and carefully.

“You’re a genius, wealthy, talented enough to run a large corporation...”

Wow. Perhaps she’d said the right thing. Youngjun's expression softened a little bit. Ji-ran became excited and continued to praise him, in a higher tone this time.

“You’re handsome, tall, polite, a great speaker, and—sexy to boot, hehe.”

Ji-ran gave him a meaningful wink and brought her hand up to his ankle.

“How long are you going to leave me hanging, honey?”

“Didn't Secretary Kim warn you before?”

“Huh? What...?”

“She told you never to touch my body, didn’t she?”

Ji-ran, taken aback by his icy gaze, snatched her hand back. He continued his strange line of questioning.

“Alright. Let me give you another question. Would you want to meet some other guy with a person like me by your side?”

Ji-ran was wide-eyed as she said,

“No way! No way I’d feel that way, not with you around!”

“Right?”

“That's obvious.”

“Exactly! I mean, how could anyone be like that!”

“I agree!”

“So why...”

Youngjun stopped, brushed his hair back, and mumbled nervously. His legs were trembling, which was not like him at all.

“So why is Secretary Kim acting like that? Why? What's wrong with Secretary Kim?”

His head was filled with this question and nothing else. The only two words that were on his mind at that moment were “secretary” and “Kim”.

“You’re a woman too, so you can tell me, right? Tell me! Tell me now!”

Everyone seated around him was ill at ease as Youngjun bellowed in a deep bass voice. What in the world was the matter with him? Had he finally lost his marbles?

“H-how should I know? You should ask her yourself.”

“Ask her myself? Ah... I can’t do that. How can I? My pride...”

Perhaps overwhelmed with emotion, he repeatedly stood and slumped down in the sofa multiple times. He finally turned his head toward the sky and roared like a beast.

“Grraawr! Kim Miso, how can you do this to me!”